


He's such a surreal Phenomenon

by orphan_account



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bartender AU, Bartender!Andrew, Bartender!Neil, M/M, Tags Are Hard, both of them are bartenders, cries/ idk how to tag, okay?, tho not so much bartending is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Neil was never a part of the equation. It was suppose to be a linear equation, not quadric.*In which Neil was never recruited by PSU and eventually ends up at Eden's twilight as a bartender and after graduating so does Andrew. For Valentine's Day AFTG Exchange.





	He's such a surreal Phenomenon

**Author's Note:**

> actual prompt: AU where Neil is the experienced bartender and has to train Andrew!!! and Andrew can't help but stare at Neil's fingers and biceps whenever he flips a mixer in the air and catches it. in which Neil is so fucking oblivious, KEVIN has to point it out to him, and Andrew is so fucking not subtle when flirting with Neil! 
> 
> ah hoya, i've never written anything in my life im kinda nervous ●﹏● huehuehue
> 
> · i hope the they're not too ooc, i tried my best  
> · i strayed from the prompt path, im soooooo sorry. might be not what you expected (T.T) im so fucking sorry but i did add the elements listed in the prompt. it was suppose to be fluffy but it just turned out —  
> · but i hope it's not that disappointing.  
> · i tried my best in editing but if you see any mistakes please feel free to point them out.  
> 

* * *

  
Once upon a time, Neil Josten wasn't real. The one time anything felt real was when Lola was burning his face off mostly because Nathaniel was so _so_ scared of Lola that he clawed his way out through the persona of Neil Josten and went limp in Lola's smiling face.

 

 

 

But then suddenly, he was real. Nathan Wesninski and Lola Malcolm were dead and Neil Josten was real and Nathaniel was stripped bare off his secrets in front of FBI, he told them everything. (Though carefully left out anything Moriyama related because he knew enough about the 'Why you were on the run' to 'Yakuza entanglement' from his Uncle.)

 

 

  
At first Neil was relieved, the fact that he is real was still surreal but once he settled in Columbus with a job at Eden's Twilight under witness protection then it crashed on him for how hard it is to be real. Mostly for the first two years, he spent his days either battling if he is even real or coursing through online classes.

 

 

 

Now that Neil's done with the self deprecating days and college, the last thing he expected himself to do was to accept a full-time bartending job at Eden's twilight. There weren't solid reasons for him to explain his hesitance. In fact it was simple; as much as Neil Josten wants to be real, being permanent and real still scares the shit out of him.

 

 

 

Though he did avoid the club on purpose during weekends because Kevin fucking Day. As much as Neil wants to he can’t crave Nathaniel out of him, some part of him will always keep thrashing. He knows Kevin must have seen his, Nathaniel's, picture on news. Must have seen the same exact face he once saw skinning a man alive. And Neil knows that's what people see when they look at him. He knew Kevin would recognize that face.

 

 

  
Because Neil looks so much like him that it hurts. The same icy blue eyes, the auburn nest of hair. It's the same face that killed his mother, the same face that haunts his dreams. The scars are the only thing that dilutes Neil's own hatred towards his face. So he stayed off the radar until Kevin graduated from PSU. Neil doesn't miss the looks people darts in his direction because of his scars when he serves them drinks though it does keeps them from starting bullshit when he's around.

 

 

 

Summing Neil’s life, he sounds as real as a normal person probably with a little more complications. He didn’t mind it though; future has always been a meaningless word in his dictionary, this just sounds like a luxury and frankly temporary (Nightmares have been a constant reminder of that) until now.

 

 

 

Since Roland dropped the bomb on Neil that Andrew fucking Minyard will be working at this club from tomorrow on and specifically at the same station as Neil because let Neil quote Roland, _“basic food prep and snagging someone’s gig for a short amount of time doesn’t make someone a bartender Neil.”_

 

 

 

The thought of working in the same club as Minyard makes him a big mess of; restless pacing, running a hand through his hair every five minutes and biting his lips until it bleeds. It sends a shudder down his spine when he thinks how close Minyard has ties to Moriyama.

 

 

 

Neil splays his fingers almost unconsciously at his ribs where Minyard slammed a racquet when he and Kevin showed up in Millport to recruit Neil. Now looking back, it was a dumb decision. He might have said yes and spilled secrets to FBI after he had a little exy to fill the empty spot in his gut. He misses the weight of an exy racquet in his hands, the feeling –

 

 

 

A car zooms past Neil, derailing his thoughts completely as he forces himself to slow down. _Oh right I was running._  Neil thinks. He didn’t even realize his legs were aching this badly until he stumbles a little at the sidewalk. He’s not the suicidal type usually, but soon after hitting the witness protection he realized that the pain anchors him. He didn’t need any more scars so he settled with something which was etched in him since he was young; running. He thinks maybe after so many years he would get used to the feeling but never once could he tell the difference between reality and nightmares without a run. _Old habits die hard._

 

 

 

His lungs gasp for oxygen as he collects himself on an empty sidewalk of who knows where, his thoughts usually crashes at him so hard during runs that he never knows where he would end up. Neil spares a glance at his surrounding, after five minutes of not being able to recognize the area he fishes out his phone which has an unsurprisingly blank screen.

 

 

 

Finally when Neil feels coherent enough to make out his surroundings without having to gasp, he turns back to the direction he was running from and thinks. _Oh well long way home._

 

 

* * *

 

Andrew never expected Kevin to keep his end of bargain, just like Aaron didn’t either. He learned long ago that promise is just an empty word now; stripped off its meaning – a hollow meaningless word in a dictionary. Still to Andrew it was the key to life, give and take sounds like a simple transaction if spoken verbally. But in the real life the ‘give’ part always seems to be diluted in its meaning and whoever you’ll ever encounter in life, they will just take and take and take.

 

 

  
Kevin signed the contract to the same team as Riko Moriyama with a trembled ‘I’m sorry’ in Andrew’s direction. Nicky went back to Germany and Aaron got together with Katelyn as soon as they graduated. Thus, once again life is losing its meaning in Andrew’s dictionary too.

 

 

  
But Bee’s still here like a solid pillar as she was for the last five years, convincing him that there might be something that holds even a 0.09% of his interest. And among some nearly non-existent interesting things, his thought process halted at Eden’s twilight. He reasons out his options.

 

 

He doesn’t really mind being there.

 

It might be less boring than life.

 

Maybe he’ll find something capable of piquing his interest even for a day or two.

 

 

  
So when Andrew sees Bee the next time buying hot chocolate at Wal-Mart, he tells Bee about him thinking of working at Eden’s twilight. And it seems to please Bee so much that she pats Andrew on the back (with Andrew’s permission, of course.) and exits the store with a ‘I’m happy for you’ and a warm smile in Andrew’s direction.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“– I know it looks easy but try sliding your thumb back and forth along the shaft and push against the two fingers on the opposite side; it’ll allow the spoon to agitate the ice in an up-and-down movement.” Neil knows this because Roland corrected the exact thing when Neil died and recurred during his lessons of how stirring can change the taste of the drink if done wrong. Andrew throws a glare in Neil’s direction but for an asshole he does complies with Neil and offers Neil the cocktail after he is done stirring.

 

 

  
“I don’t drink.” Neil shakes his head. He cleans their station leisurely since there wasn’t much of a crowd tonight. By the time he is done with disposing of squeezed lime carcasses, he finds Andrew staring at him. Neil tilts his head and arches an eyebrow at him which prompts Andrew to wordlessly disappear in the back of the club.

 

 

  
Neil extinguishes the curiosity in his gut to find out what the other man is doing but deliberately focuses on what’s before him. It’s been a week since Andrew has began working at Eden’s. He made Neil act a little wary around him in the beginning but since Andrew mostly keeps to himself and occasionally communicates with Roland (and sometimes Neil) He surprisingly finds himself relaxed in the other man’s presence.

 

 

  
Around the time Neil shift’s over, Andrew saunters back – his expression carefully blank but shoulder noticeably a little less tense with Roland trailing behind him. Their hairs are disheveled and did Neil learn something past these years working in this club is definitely what that look means. _Oh._

 

 

 

* * *

 

  
“You really shouldn’t smoke while on job, bad etiquettes.” Andrew spares a glance to his left at Neil who is leaning against the wall almost in the identical way of his own, close enough to sense the presence but not enough to feel any body heat. It’s probably the first time one of them tried to initiate a conversation. It started off as a coincidence – the same place to hang out during shift breaks then it was almost like a routine. Andrew doesn’t mind the other man’s presence as long as he doesn’t bother the sheet of silence. Today wasn’t any different but perhaps in a perspective it can be categorized that way.

 

 

  
Neil’s black tie is hanging loosely around his neck, his white shirt rolled up to his elbows showing an array of burns and scars. This – This is new. Andrew has to forcibly tear his gaze away from Neil’s arms not because they are extremely well defined in fact the crisscross pattern of angry lines on his knuckles and the burn mark on his face was already enough to pique Andrew’s interest but looking at these scars, it makes Andrew want to know more about Neil.

 

 

  
“Do I look like someone who cares?” Neil gives a small smile and leaps forward stealing the cigarette from Andrew’s fingers without touching. Andrew freezes for a moment, too startled by Neil’s action to comprehend what he just allowed to happen. He pops it against his own lips and releases a puff of smoke, which curls around Neil’s jaws enhancing the sharp edges and angry lines threading across his cheek.

 

 

 

After taking a drag, Neil holds it out for Andrew, who just blinks back at him as he’s not really used to someone being this casual to him.

 

 

 

“Got bored of watching you smoke all by yourself,” says Neil, wriggling his fingers in front of Andrew which prompts him to pluck the cigarette from those slender fingers and takes a good drag of nicotine himself. Andrew decides not to call out on hypocrisy.

 

 

  
“I didn’t think you smoke.” Andrew says, bringing the cigarette to his lips and leaving it there letting the smoke tangle in the air.

 

 

  
Neil smiles a little with a soft nostalgic expression on his face and a distant look in his eyes, “I don’t. Just got bored, you know?”

 

 

 

Andrew stares for a bit in those eyes – eyes strangely glinting with an unreadable gleam in them or – or maybe they’re just reflecting the lights off fairy lights Roland decked in every corner of the club because _‘They are pretty, Andrew!’_

 

 

  
Andrew doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what to say to ‘just got bored’ instead he chooses to stare pointedly at empty space up ahead, leading to the back alley. He would have preferred the roof, preferred the swoop of feeling because of heights not because of being beside someone who doesn’t even know how extremely hot they are but damn digital codes and employers policies, he doesn’t have any access to the roof. (Yet)

 

 

  
“Andrew, what’s your favorite color?” Andrew blinks back to reality and tilts his head in Neil’s direction, to find those icy blue eyes already on him.

 

 

  
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

 

 

 

  
“It’s a legitimate question.” Andrew stares minutely at Neil before replying in a bland tone.

 

 

  
“Black.”

 

 

  
“Huh? Should’ve figured it out.” Neil breathes a puff of chuckle; the whole conversation seems to be so stupid that Andrew is slightly surprised to find himself associated with any of it. Though, Andrew does notice a slight desperation at the edge of his voice as if he’s seeking something out to cling on to. _So annoying._

 

 

  
“My turn, what the fuck is up with you?” Neil eyes widens at his question, he looks as if he’s a deer caught up in a spotlight.

 

 

 

“I’m fine.” It seems like such an automatic response that it actually irritates Andrew more than the rare honest smiles from him does. Neil must have realized so he immediately changes the answer.

 

 

  
“Just having a bad day.” If it was any other day Andrew would’ve let it slide but the desperation on Neil’s face is just so pathetic that Andrew won’t even mind if Neil smiles his rare-honest-smile right now.

 

 

  
Andrew watches Neil fidget with the cuffs of his sleeves as if just now remember that they are left in open. He sinks his teeth in his lower lip, bangs falling in front of his eyes. His forehead is beaded with sweat. If Andrew didn’t know panic attacks any better, he would’ve mistaken it for ‘fine’. Andrew brings his fingers in front of Neil’s eyes and snaps two times.

 

 

 

“Stop it.” Neil’s body goes rigid at those words; he’s so still that for a second, Andrew doubts if he’s even breathing. Andrew’s pretty sure his body moved on his own accord, one moment they were both leaning against a wall the next both of them are on their knees. Andrew’s left hand is wrapped around Neil’s nape; his eyes are shut off and slow breaths wheezing through his chest.

 

 

 

“You’re a fucking bartender. You’re not on run anymore, get a fucking grip.” Andrew repeats those words a few more times which seem to ground Neil to reality, as eventually his breaths evens out. Neil pulls back from Andrew’s space as soon as he realizes how close they were a moment ago, which prompts Andrew to remove his hand from Neil’s nape as well.

 

 

  
Andrew doesn’t elaborate how he knows about a chunk of Neil’s past. Hauling passed out Kevin Day’s ass to the dorm and his own eidetic memory which stored the face on the news that day was just plain annoying once but it turned out to be a little useful in the end anyway. But the thing is Andrew wants to know more, because watching a piece of news doesn’t define someone. He wants to see how many more scars are threaded on Neil’s body. He wants to know stupid things about Neil, the type of stupid things Andrew never thought he would care enough about. It’s so disgusting to want to see those rare-honest-smiles

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Let’s do truth for truth.”

 

 

  
“Huh?”

 

 

  
“An exchange. You tell me a truth. I would tell one right back.”

 

 

  
The statement sounds so simple that If Neil wouldn’t have inherited his mother’s paranoia he would’ve nodded right away. He thinks. Thinks if it would be okay to let someone see himself; he doesn’t remember a time he ever felt he was more than a patchwork of lies. He thinks if Andrew will walk away if he actually saw Neil, everyone knows Nathaniel, the boy who ran away with his mother from the butcher of Baltimore. He thinks if he should show himself; his regulars knows Neil, the bartender with scars all over his face who is willing to lend an ear to you as long as your asshole quota doesn’t exceed. Whenever he’s with Andrew, he remembers how he feels more real with him, how his solid presence relaxes Neil. So he thinks if he should show himself; no one but his mother knows Abram, the boy who watched his mother’s dead body being engulfed in flames. He doesn’t know if he can tell Andrew truths good enough for his standards, his truths usually holds a counterbalance with lies. But he wants to try, because it’s Andrew. Not a solid reason for his mother would kill him for this but she’s dead and he’s alive and he wants to be real and Andrew makes him feel real.

 

 

  
Eventually, Neil whispers. “Okay.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Andrew tracks Neil’s movements carefully; he isn’t doing it because he likes watching how Neil grips the speed pourer and the neck of the bottle with ease, how his biceps tightens when he flips the bottle in one single rotation and pour a shot of liquor smoothly. He definitely isn’t doing it for that purpose.

 

 

  
“You can go with a Boston shaker after this,” says Neil, as he arranges a tray of A-bombs; the cuffs of his sleeves rides up a little revealing an array of scars. The sight makes Andrew feel hot rage pooling in the pit of his stomach, Andrew would’ve killed the woman who did this again if she wasn’t already that. Andrew gives Neil a small nod, and turns to prepare the drinks while squashing the burning urge to punch a wall.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Andrew is on the station right now, filling in for Neil too since there isn’t many people in the club tonight rather it’s kind of booked for some party. Neil’s gaze follows Andrew sometimes; on occasions he finds himself wondering how those broad shoulders would feel beneath his hands, he would like to rake through Andrew’s hair which looks so soft under the lights of the club. Neil exhales loudly, he knows the feeling of being watched and doesn’t really like it, so he averts his gaze from Andrew. Rather than seeking out for hazel eyes, he sets himself with rimming the glasses for preparing Lemon drops and lets his mind wander.

 

 

  
Nowadays, Neil looks forward to his and Andrew’s conversations which shifted from being done in the bar back to the rooftop. It’s never easy; splaying a part of himself bare leaving him vulnerable but surprisingly with every conversation he finds himself easing with truths. The deep bone understanding in Andrew’s eyes calms him. Sewing lies together to create a truth is what his mother taught him, but with Andrew he feels himself trembling. Unable to sew those tiny lies, rather bits and pieces of truths escapes unconsciously from Neil’s lips leaving him nonplussed as what happened to the armor he spent so much time creating?

 

 

  
Neil sweeps his thoughts aside as he manages to evenly coat the last of glasses and slides the salt-shaker in the sink. He swipes his hands on one of the bar towels ready to return to help Andrew in straining drinks. But his feet freeze as soon as he hears the familiar voice from up front.

 

 

  
“I know, Andrew. But you don’t know Riko!”

 

 

 

“Don’t. Do you think I don’t know about the man who broke your wrist, set up Drake and Proust for me and killed Seth to get you?”

 

 

  
Neil watches Kevin work out his jaw bracing himself to blurt another retort; he also watches Kevin’s whole body freezing as soon as his green eyes lands on Neil’s figure. Neil doesn’t hold the bitter resentment for Kevin anymore; he remembers those green eyes filled with joy once but the same green eyes shows nothing but tiredness and hollowness right now.

 

 

  
“Nathaniel,” breathes Kevin, Neil gives a whole body flinch at the name being said out aloud. He feels Andrew going for his armbands so he extends his arm out and let it linger over Andrew’s arms but doesn’t touch him. Eventually Andrew drops his arm back, his muscles still taunt with tension. Neil turns toward Kevin who was observing the whole scenario with an unreadable expression.

 

 

  
“It’s Neil, Kevin.”

 

 

 

“Neil. I – I didn’t know you –”

 

 

 

“Worked here? I’m surprised too.”

 

 

 

“But how did –”

 

 

 

“Managed the whole yakuza shit? Law’s a wonder.”

 

 

Kevin stares at Neil, his eyes filled with irritation at being interrupted again and again.

 

 

 

“You haven’t changed, Na – Neil.”

 

 

  
“First person alive to tell me this, what a joy.” Kevin snorts and opens his mouth to reply but Andrew cuts him off with a slam of a drink on the counter. It looks similar to vodka fizz but somehow Neil doubts there is much of a club soda in it. Neil glances at the row of liqueur at the top shelf, he wonders . . .

 

 

  
“Kevin, get out and Neil, you’re not drinking tonight.” Neil blinks in surprise at Andrew. How the hell did he know? Neil thinks. Since they’ve started exchanging truths, Neil told him the reason why he doesn’t drink. _(“It was more of an anesthetic, you know.” “No I don’t, you’re a bartender. Such a waste.”)_ Neil has sometimes drunk since then with Andrew along him; he remembers watching Andrew’s eyes shimmer with amusement when Neil starts blabbering in different languages.

 

 

 

“I wasn’t planning to,”

 

 

 

“Yes, you were.” Neil continues to stares at Andrew until eventually Andrew sighs.

 

 

 

“You glanced at the Irish cream liqueur when you were eying Kevin’s drink,” Neil huffs in response.

 

 

 

“Fine. The Blow Job wasn’t that good anyway. I liked Blood and Sand better, it has a rich fruity taste.” He hears someone choking which reminds Neil that they’re still working and Kevin’s still there. He turns to look at Kevin, who was watching the two of them amusedly.

 

 

 

“You guys are the worst flirters,”

 

 

 

“What?” At the same time Andrew replies in a hard tone, “shut up, Kevin.”

 

 

 

Oh.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Andrew didn’t care about bartending, he just liked the way Bee’s eyes shined with pride when he told her about his job as a Bartender. Even after the hard childhood some part of Andrew still yearned for motherly love, so he didn’t want to disappoint Bee. Neil was never a part of the equation. It was suppose to be a linear equation, not quadric.

 

 

 

This still doesn’t feel real, Neil doesn’t feel real. It’s been a year since he met Neil and he is still a surreal phenomenon that sometimes Andrew can’t take it. But the disgusting thing is Neil understands, he smiles with the same look of warmth he has seen Bee wore. He gives him space, when Andrew needs it. Andrew hates it. He hates how his chest tightens and warmth pools in his stomach when he sees Neil seeing him not looking but actually seeing. He hates that Neil makes him feel so much.

 

 

 

_(“Andrew, I’ve a question.”_

  
_“What.”_

  
_“If I ask you to kiss me, will you?” “ . . . Andrew?”_

  
_“Yes or No?”_

  
_“You don’t have to if you don’t –”_

  
_“Neil, yes or no?”_

  
_“Yes,” The press of lips against Andrew is so light, he barely feels it. So Andrew pulls Neil forward with a hand around his neck and pins Neil’s wrists with another of his own. The next moments even for Andrew are so dizzy, he would have barely remembered them if not for his eidetic memory. Teeth clashing. Tongue swirling. A desperation edge to the kisses. Hot breaths ghosting each other lips. Heart caught in his throat.)_

 

 

 

Chunks of moments are stored in Andrew’s memory when they kiss, it disturbs him. He should remember how many kisses they’ve shared till now, how many feelings attack him when they kiss, he should remember the clarity to kisses but the moment his lips finds Neil, his brain shuts down on his own accord and all he remember is the soft press of lips against his own. He wonders how –

 

 

 

“Andrew! We’ve run out of cocoa mint whatever, if you’ll make a run for it get some cat food for Sir and King too.”

 

 

 

– he ended up living with an idiot.


End file.
